saudade
by DrakoSquirtle
Summary: Her boy was dead, and she had no one to blame but herself. - red, red's mother


_saudade_

-noun - (in Portuguese folk culture) a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent.

* * *

**_{everyday she waits for his return.}_**

* * *

he's 5 years old when she first sees that look in his eyes.

A small glint of curiosity, mixed with a kind of ambitious determination she just can't describe - but rightly reminiscent of **_someone_** she once loved.

He's playing with their household Persian yelling out commands that are rather inappropriate for the tamed household cat.

"Ma, why can't we get a real Pokemon?", he asks one day over breakfast.

She pays no attention to the innocent question. "Persian **_is_** a real Pokemon."

The young boy pouts his face, and she hears him mutter something about just how inadequate the poor cat Pokemon was in battle.

It's here, small butterflies fill her stomach; looking back she wonders if she should've paid more heed to them.

* * *

he's 9 when she realizes she can't control it anymore.

It was just supposed to be a small errand trip down to Viridian; they had ran out of milk and eggs, and she thought she had informed him about certain dangers enough to think he'd stray away.

It's when she hears the commotion outside, that she opens her front door to find him holding a gold medal and bag of groceries. he's surrounded by locals, who all in turn look at him with awe; like he was different,_ special_.

Later that evening during supper he recounts his battle-winning strategy to her, and eventual amateur medal win.

And if it weren't for the way her heart dropped with worry, she may have even been proud.

* * *

He's 11 when she finally breaks.

It was a quiet request during supper; a meek voice which pleaded and implored, and just like that her heart breaks because she loves just so much to deny him his right to a life that is more than just small-town chores and errands.

It takes only one look at him for her to agree - that glint in his eye now indisputable. She says 'yes' with a certain amount of hesitance.

But he smiles widely either way; quickly finishing the rest of his rather mundane supper and running back up to his room to pack.

It's here where she wonders if she made the right choice.

* * *

He's 13 when she first feels a twinge of worry.

She's sitting in their kitchen, phone softly cradled in the nook of her neck as she listens to the voice of her boy.

He was in Celadon now from what he told her; his voice cracking as a rite of passage into adulthood (it's here she wonders how tall he's gotten).

Their conversation doesn't last long; it never does. He's always in a hurry, always going on about the wonders that he's seen and people he's met. He tells her that he loves her him. She says that she knows. And just as she begins to tell him to remember to wear a jacket, he hangs up; whispering a hasty goodbye into the receiver.

The line goes silent, as she sits there cradling the receiver in her hands - waiting for him to call again.

...just like always.

* * *

He's 16 when she realizes he isn't coming back.

A ring of a bell was all it took, and as she opens her door she sees the whole of Pallet at her doorstep; neighbors holding balloons and 'congratulations!' cards - the ones that had those tacky cartoonish covers on them.

She knows what this is for, he had become Champion; to many that meant that he had cemented his place in Kanto history, but to her it just meant that he would finally come back home.

She sits with Daisy and Oak one afternoon, enjoying a cup of tea as they discussed her son's newfound glory, and achievement in Pokemon data collection.

She asks when he might be coming back. Paled faces and surprised eyes is what she gets in response.

_"He didn't tell you?"_ Oak starts,_ "He was going to explore Jhoto - something about climbing a mountain made for champions."_

It's here where she feels her heart sink, as she realizes that he was never coming back.

* * *

he's 17 or 18 (it had been difficult keeping up with his age nowadays) when she feels numb.

There is not much for her to do anymore (cleaning and cooking for one required a lot less chores than she would have probably liked).

Some days she'll wander into Viridian; roaming the mundane streets with no purpose but to feel something; be it the sun in her face, or brisk breeze on her skin. Other days she'll sit in their - well she supposes it was _**her's**_ now - kitchen; knitting clothes for a boy who had already outgrew them or re-reading the same encyclopedia for the 5th time.

One eye always on the telephone, just in case … just case...

It's here she wonders if this was just a cruel twist of fate. The very town that she had moved to, to keep him safe, was withering her away bit by bit.

\- she thinks if the irony wasn't so upsetting she might even chuckle at it.

* * *

He's 19 when her heart finally breaks.

After 8 long years she finds him sitting on the doorsteps of the porch, back home - but now she wonders if it was all a mistake.

Most days she'll find him out on the nearby routes, battling aspiring trainers - giving advice, earning praise. Other times, when out on errands, she'll see him sit by the Viridian Gym; a peculiar look creeping up on his face as he gazes towards the abandoned building.

_"Your boy is the pride of Pallet,"_ she'll hear them say with awe. _"His soul full, and heart golden."_

She wonders if they've looked into his eyes. **His eyes were dead**; that glint of determination now gone, replaced by a steadfast glaze of nothingness.

He doesn't let her know though; or at least tries not to. Like his **_father_**, tucking his emotions deep into the crevasses of his soul; she wonders if this would be his undoing (just like it was **_his_**).

However, it's during the dark hours of the night, when she'll hear the silent weeps and gasping screams from his room that she considers otherwise.

* * *

He's 20 when she realizes she's lost him.

She had tried oh so hard to hold on, but to no avail he had lost himself; the same way a child loses sight of loosely kept balloon - helplessly. Only to see it drifting it away to places it'd never be able to go.

She wonders if this is what love feels like (or the lack of it)

Her boy was dead, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Afterword

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